


Code Red

by WriterGirl128



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Bromance, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Multi, Post-Nogitsune, post 3b
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-08-14
Updated: 2014-08-16
Packaged: 2018-02-13 02:26:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,691
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2133600
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriterGirl128/pseuds/WriterGirl128
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>His anchor was gone. Not gone the way it was before--no, that gone was more like...absent. Temporary. Easier to fill back up--easier to bounce back from. This gone, though. This gone made an ache settle in under his bones and made his heart beat uneven and made him want to crawl out of himself and whither away to nothingness. This gone was permanent.</p><p>*ON HIATUS*</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Kind of the filler stuff between season 3b and 4 that I really wish they had shown on the actual show. Also unbeta'd so I'm sorry if there are mistakes! Please let me know if there are and if you have suggestions on how to make it better!

"Code red, dude," Stiles hissed, hitting Scott as he stopped his momentum. He was breathing heavily from running and sweat beaded on his forehead, glistening on his concerned brow.

Scott turned away from the field quickly, immediately retreating to the sidelines, though no one seemed to notice the sixty watt stop lights his eyes had turned into. Thank you, helmet and face mask. "God, here? Really?" He closed his eyes for a second, and Stiles faintly heard someone on the field ask, "Where'd McCall go?"

Scott cracked an eye open, just a little. "Anything?" he asked hopefully.

Stiles shook his head. "Nope. Still red."

Awesome.

" _McCall!"_ someone roared. "Stilinski! What the hell are you two doing?"

"Sorry, Coach!" Stiles called behind him, wincing. "I know--we were just--ah, we're coming, we're coming!"

"Well hurry it up--asses on the field! You and your boyfriend can flirt around later!"

"Yes, sir!" Stiles called again, then turned to Scott, who'd managed to get his eyes to flicker back and forth--but they always settled back on red. Stiles frowned. "You know, one of these days people are going to start getting the wrong idea about us."

"That's really what you're worried about right now?" Scott replied, resisting the urge to roll his eyes. He blinked at Stiles for a minute, eyes still flickering back and forth. "Better?"

"Almost. They're kinda flashing--like the blinker on a car."

"Of course they are," Scott mumbled, then closed his eyes again.

"Hey! Mary-Kate and Ashley!" someone from the field shouted. "Get your scrawny asses back here!"

"We're coming!" Stiles called back. "And my ass is not scrawny, thank you very much! It's perfectly proportionate to my body!"

"Yeah, which is scrawny. Now move!"

"Just a sec!" he called. His voice was starting to quiver, uneasy. He looked back to Scott, who still had his eyes closed. "Hurry up, man--I think...oh. Oh no."

"What?" Scott's eyes snapped open, alert. "What is it?"

"Incoming. He's coming over, Scott--Coach is coming. He's looking at us like we kicked his puppy."

His eyes flared red with alarm, undoing any progress he'd made. "Go stall him!" he hissed. Then he caught Stiles' arm. "Wait! No, don't do that--just, uh...just--uh--"

Then Coach was there, hands gripping their shoulders so tightly it would definitely leave bruises on Stiles' skin. "Mind if I ask you," he started, way too calmly, "what you two are doing out here instead of being _on the field with the team_?!" By the end, he was shouting in their ears.

Scott flinched, diverting his face and gaze away from Coach nervously. "I just got a little dizzy," he mumbled, trying to get a grip on his haywire eyes. "Stiles can go back and play--I think I'll go back to the locker room and lie down, if that's okay, Coach."

Coach's grip on Scott's shoulder tightened. "Team captain, McCall--don't tell me that doesn't mean anything to you? Is all it takes to break you down a little dizziness? What kind of example does that set for the rest of the team? Maybe I need to rethink--"

"No!" Scott cut in hastily, still not turning his head. "No, I'm fine. I can play. No, uh--no rethinking necessary."

Coach clapped his hands onto their shoulders, pushing them towards the field. "Thatta boy. Now go save those pathetic losers before they hurt themselves, would you?"

Swiftly moving back to the field, Scott shot Stiles a panicked look, eyes still glowing, and pulled his lips away from his teeth just enough to show Stiles his lengthening fangs. Stiles' eyes widened as Scott pressed his lips together tightly, lifting his hands. "What do I do?" he hissed, barely moving his lips, keeping his teeth hidden.

Then they were back to their positions, and though they couldn't have a real conversation anymore, Stiles still spoke quietly, under his breath, knowing Scott could hear him. "Anchor," he whispered, and Scott kept his gaze low, desperately praying no one would pay him much attention, or see the fact that his eyes were glowing like stoplights under his helmet. "Find your anchor."

Find his anchor. Right, Scott thought. If only it were that simple. Because his anchor was gone. Not gone the way it was gone before--no, that gone was more...absent. Temporary. Easier to fill back up--easier to bounce back from. This gone, though. This gone made an ache settle in under his bones and made his heart beat uneven and made him want to crawl out of himself and whither away to nothingness. This gone was permanent. Because his anchor was dead. Allison, the first girl he ever fell completely in love with, the girl who he was totally in awe of, the girl he would give his life for, was dead.

Scott could feel his shoulders hunch, deflating as if he were a balloon with his air being let out, but tightening, tensing up at the same time. Thinking about Allison did nothing to calm him, nothing to help reign in the beast desperately trying to claw itself out from under his skin. If anything, thinking about her made it worse--made his heart beat jump and stirred up the dark feelings of grief he tried so hard to hide every day.

Stiles had obviously been keeping an eye on him from the other side of the field, because not a moment later, his voice floated to Scott's ears, gentle among the violent sounds of lacrosse. "Hey, you're okay," it said quietly. "Don't think about her. Think about--think about your pack, okay? Think about me, or Lydia, or your mom, or Kira, or even Derek."

A heaviness settled in Scott's stomach at one of the names. Kira--sweet, adorable, awkward Kira. He couldn't help but feel guilty whenever he thought about her. It almost felt like he was cheating on her. Only, they weren't exactly together, completely, and the person he would be cheating with isn't actually alive. But still, Scott couldn't help but squirm with guilt, his shoes feeling heavy. He wants to be happy with Kira, he really does--but part of him can't seem to let go of Allison, and that guilt sits on his chest with the weight of a building.

But even focusing on the guilt he felt helped more than thinking about Allison did. He could feel a little of the pressure in his jaw receding, could finally manage to pull back just enough to blink the red out of his irises. He shot Stiles a look across the field, where Stiles quickly shot him a thumbs up before actually joining in on the lacrosse scrimmage.

Scott let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding and turned to join his teammates in the game. He ignored the dull ache that lingered in his chest. Maybe he wasn't exactly okay right then, in that moment--but he'd get there. He couldn't possibly feel that hollow for the rest of his life. Things could only get better. Right?


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For what seemed like the thousandth time, Stiles woke up screaming.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still unbeta'd, so I'm sorry if there are mistakes! I thought I'd try to write a little more for this chapter, but I don't know how it came out. Please let me know what you think!

For what seemed like the thousandth time, Stiles woke up screaming. His heart was racing and his eyes were blown wide in the dark, ghosts of his nightmare playing over and over and over again in his head. He tried to shake the feeling off, but something in his gut clenched tight, guilt sitting like a stone in his stomach. He could almost hear Lydia screaming her name, like an echo of her life that was haunting him--blaming him.

Within moments, there was a tap on his window, and Stiles sighed shakily. It's become something like a routine for them--Stiles screams himself awake from his nightmares, and Scott hears him and comes running. Stiles wished he wouldn't--Scott almost looked more like a zombie than Stiles did. He knew he didn't look all that great himself--he'd lost weight he couldn't afford, his skin had paled, and there were angry, dark circles under his eyes from so many sleepless nights. He couldn't seem to find his appetite anymore--and when he did, it was almost impossible to keep anything down. But Scott was barely sleeping either, and even his werewolf healing was no match for the bruises that hung under his eyes like shadows.

Stiles swallowed, sliding the window open to let Scott in. "I really wish you would stop doing this."

Climbing through, Scott snorted quietly. "Not likely."

"Scott, seriously. I'm fine. Please go home--you look like you haven't slept in weeks. Go back to bed."

Scott put a hand on Stiles' shoulder, squeezing it gently. "I wasn't sleeping anyways," he said truthfully.

For a moment, Stiles was silent. Then he shook his head and chuckled softly, deflating back down to the edge of his bed. "Man," he sighed, and folded his hands, letting his eyes close as he rested his chin on them. "How the hell did we even get here, Scott? I mean, seriously--when did our lives go from normal with a side of supernatural to a full blown supernatural horror movie?"

Scott exhaled deeply, sinking down to the bed next to Stiles. He was silent for a minute, just breathing. "The Darach," he decided after a moment. Stiles looked up, not expecting a legitimate answer, and saw Scott nod, his gaze lingering out the window. "I mean, the sacrifices thing--taking our parents...sacrificing ourselves. Everything with the nemeton."

Stiles chuckled again, though there was little humor in it. "Opening doors into our minds," he continued, and nodded. "Yeah. I think you're right. I guess I just--I don't know. After we fixed Jackson, I thought things would get back to normal at some point, you know?" He shook his head a little, dropping his gaze. "Then everything with Jennifer happened, and the, the--" he broke off for a moment, swallowing audibly. It was hard to keep his voice steady. "--nogitsune, and, and Allison--" his voice hitched a little and he broke off again, only this time, he didn't continue. He couldn't look at Scott, couldn't deal with seeing the inevitable pity and grief and pain in his eyes. So he kept his gaze low, locked on his shoes. 

Only Scott didn't say anything, didn't do anything to fill the silence. He just leaned a little closer to Stiles, just a little, as if to assure him that he was still there, that he wasn't going anywhere. Stiles dragged his gaze up, but Scott was still looking out the window. Stiles followed his gaze out, and saw what Scott must've been looking at. "Full moon tomorrow?" he asked hesitantly. Already? It seemed like only a few days ago that they got rid of the, the--nogitsune, Stiles thought, even fearing the word in his own mind, as if thinking about him might let him back in. Could it already have been almost a month?

"Yeah," Scott said lowly, and gave a single nod of his head.

Stiles bit his lip, breathing still a little shakily. "First one since..." he couldn't bring himself to say the words. Since Allison died.

Scott nodded again something odd in his eyes. "Yeah."

Stiles dropped his gaze again, not being able to look Scott in the eye after everything he's done. "You think you'll be okay?" he asked, and didn't even bother trying to hide the worry in his voice. 

For a moment, Scott was quiet. Then, after a long stretch of time that seemed like an eternity to Stiles, he shook his head. "Not really," he admitted quietly. From the corner of his eye, Stiles saw Scott drop his gaze, rubbing a hand across his face. "I've clawed through four sets of sheet this week," he said abruptly, making Stiles look up in alarm. Scott shook his head. "Whenever I sleep, I just--wake up with everything around me shredded to pieces."

Something tightened sympathetically in Stiles' chest. "That's why you aren't sleeping?" he asked tentatively. Almost a month had passed, yet this was probably one of the first times they were openly talking about everything that had happened--talking about the aftermath. For the first week or two, Stiles didn't really want to talk to anyone about anything--supernatural or normal. He didn't think he could handle looking at his friends, his pack, after everything he'd done. Everything the nogitsune had made his hands do. He was a little hesitant to try and open this conversation up, but somewhere in him, he knew that it was a conversation Scott needed to have. 

For a moment, just a fraction of a second, Scott looked conflicted--but then it was gone, and he nodded silently.

But Stiles had picked up on it. "That's not it, is it?" he asked gently. "There's something else."

Scott's gaze was locked on his fingers, but he nodded slowly. "I had this--" his voice faltered a little, but he swallowed the tremble back. "I had this nightmare," he tried again, his voice small. "The same one, over and over and over again. It was that--it was that night. After she--died. After she died, and he--the nogitsune--was getting stronger, a-and you were dying, only we couldn't, we couldn't figure out how to save you. We tried everything, and we couldn't do it. And you--you died, and I just--" he broke off again, hands tightening into fists, "--I just lost it. I lost everything. Allison, and you, and it was a dream, but it felt like someone set my blood on fire and I--I couldn't take it. And I literally just started ripping him apart, Stiles, and it terrifies me because it felt so good to just give in to it, and somewhere in the back of my mind I knew it was wrong, but Allison was dead, and--and you were dead, and I just...I didn't care." 

Stiles sat in a kind of pained silence, heart lurching. For a second, he wasn't exactly sure what to say. It was almost comforting--in a sick, twisted way, of course--to know that he wasn't the only one having nightmares. When they first started, he always tried to cover them up--which wasn't so easy when you start screaming in your sleep. He'd wave them off when his dad came rushing in, and try to wave them off when Scott inevitably showed up. But the whole human-lie-detector thing made that a little more difficult, and honestly, he couldn't usually muster up the energy to try. But knowing Scott, irrationally moral, strong, brave Scott, was having nightmares that kept him from sleeping made Stiles feel a little less ashamed of himself, of the fact that he'd lie awake all night, terrified he might have a bad dream if he closed his eyes for even a second.

But Stiles felt a jab of guilt in his gut, too--these nightmares have been haunting Scott ever since that night, he just never payed attention. Scott was always worrying about him, and Lydia, and Derek, never once bringing up his own grief, his own demons. Because that's just who Scott was--putting other people in front of himself, even when he's falling to pieces.

And he was. He was breaking apart at the seams--Stiles could see that. Losing Allison did something to him, besides just taking away his best anchor. It was like it dimmed the brightness in his eyes, a little. It was like Scott McCall, always Mr. Happy Sunshine and Optimism, was stuck behind angry, black clouds. He was trying to shine through, trying to brighten the people around him, trying to shine down and lift up everyone he possibly could, but the clouds remained. Scott paused for a second swallowing back a dangerous warble in his voice. "It's starting to bleed over, too," he continued shakily. "It's like, sometimes when I'm awake I just feel like everything would be so much easier if I just...didn't care. Sometimes I want to just stop fighting it, a-and let go, give in, whatever it takes to stop it from feeling like my skin is splitting open, and sometimes I don't care what that means. My control lately is spotty as it is, but this? It's--it's like the human part of me doesn't always want to be human anymore, and it terrifies me."

Stiles swallowed hard, not knowing what he was saying until after it was out of his mouth. "That's not you," he promised softly. "It's not. That's--that's coming from some broken nightmare, okay, Scott? Some totally irrational, unrealistic nightmare. You know that's not you. You would never do something like that."

Scott shook his head. "You don't know that," he barely said, eyebrows drawing together as he watched his fingers. "I don't even know that. If you had died, Stiles, if we'd lost you too..." He shook his head again, but didn't finish. 

This time, Stiles leaned into Scott a bit, shoulders pressing together--something solid in their ever-shifting lives. "You still got me," he said earnestly. "I'm here. I know I've been a little--" he broke off, not sure of what word to use. His gaze dropped to his fingers again, and he had to consciously remind himself not to count them--a habit he'd gotten into ever since they split him from the nogitsune. "Flaky," he settled on, wincing, "lately, and I'm sorry. I just--I needed time to get my head on straight, I guess. I don't know. To be able to look in the mirror and not see him. Which hasn't been going too well, considering I look like, I don't know--a walking corpse possessed by a demon, maybe?"

Scott immediately shook his head, dismissing the apology. "No, I get it. I mean," he backtracked quickly, wincing. "I don't exactly, er, get it. But I understand. You don't need to apologize for anything."

"I do, though," Stiles said, almost without thinking. "Scott, you're not okay. Don't you dare try to tell me you are. And I haven't been there for you. You always lift everyone else up, even if it pushes you down lower. And I get that--you're the Alpha. You protect your pack--you take care of your pack. But we're supposed to take care of you too, yeah? Because you won't, and if we don't, no one will. And I'm sorry I haven't been."

Again, Scott shook his head dismissively, bumping Stiles' shoulder gently. "It's okay," he said, and something in his expression was so open, so honest, Stiles found himself breathing a little easier. He still felt terribly guilty, but knowing Scott wasn't bitter towards him for practically abandoning him in his--dare he say--time of need made Stiles' shoes a little lighter. "It is. You had to deal with your demons--sorry, I'm sorry, bad choice of words--and I've had to deal with some of mine."

Stiles nudged Scott's shoulder back. "Hasn't been going too well for either of us on our own, though, has it?" he pointed out, shaking his head.

Scott snorted, shaking his head, too. "Not even a little."

Stiles brought his gaze up to Scott's again. "Maybe we should try dealing with them together," he suggested, and shrugged a little. "We always did work better as a team."

Scott watched Stiles for a minute, almost like he wasn't sure whether to believe what he was saying or not. But after an agonizing moment, he nodded a little, the ghost of a smile touching his lips. "Yeah," he agreed. "We always did--and I have a feeling we always will."

For the first time in what seemed like forever, Stiles couldn't suppress a smile--which only made Scott's smile brighten. Then Stiles nodded to the window, and Scott's gaze followed the nod, and his smile all but vanished. "You're coming over tomorrow night," Stiles told him, and clapped a hand on his shoulder. "If we're retraining you on resisting the full moon's pull, we're at least going to do it right this time."

Tyler winced, looking nervous. "What if I can't control it? What if I hurt you?"

Stiles shook his head, waving it off, like it was a crazy, unrealistic possibility. "You won't hurt me. Besides," he continued, and his smile spread into a grin and his eyebrows rose mischeviously, "you'll be too busy getting your ass whooped at XBOX to even notice the moon. I have months' worth of movies, video games, and junk food to catch up on, and we have four days of February break left to do it with. Although I do think it's unfair that you get to eat just about anything you want in whatever quantities suit you and fail to gain a pound--whereas I, the squishy human, have to actually pace myself unless I want to turn into a blimp."

Scott's eyebrows shot up, doubtful. "You're serious?"

Stiles frowned. "About the blimp thing? Deadly."

"About the--I don't know. Trying to get back to normal thing. Hanging out. Video games. That stuff."

Now Stiles shrugged, feeling a lot more sure of himself than he had in months. "Why not?" he asked. "I mean, think about it--it's a full moon, so it's the perfect time to work on your control, and at the same time, work on turning me back into a functioning human being who does things like, I don't know, eat food. Which I'm pretty sure the nogitsune completely neglected to do while using me as a meat puppet, just so you know."

Scott winced at first at the wording, but after a moment, he couldn't help but chuckle. "Okay, then--tomorrow night. I'll bring the soda?"

Stiles nodded. "And I'll bring the chains. And pray to God that we can get through the night without either of us screaming, crying, barfing, or having a mental breakdown."

"But, if we do--"

"We'll figure it out," Stiles cut him off, so sure of himself, so confident in their abilities that Scott couldn't help but grin, too. Maybe they could do this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, still only my first fanfic (second chapter) so I apologize if it's not good! Let me know what you think!

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fanfic so be nice and I'm terribly sorry if it's no good! I tried. A for effort, right?  
> This is kind of the whole mourning/grief thing i really wanted to see when the show came back for season 4 yet conveniently left out of the show. It's mostly dealing with the aftermath of everything that's happened and how the relationships between the characters have changed and how they're grown. Different chapters are focused on different relationships, but there's more friendship and comforting here than anything else.
> 
>  
> 
> ON HIATUS I'm so sorry I'm a horrible person who's horrible at working on things consistently :/


End file.
